iSpy
by justwriteandwriteandwrite
Summary: "The name's Benson. Freddie Benson." what happens when a spy tries to catch a killer, who happens to be his ex-girlfriend?
1. Long Time No See

**_A/N: Just a heads up. There's a lot of weird things happening in this story. Flashbacks, Alternate Universe Stuff, Dreams ... If you are confused, I apologize. If you are smart enough to work it out... Congrats! This is ALL in Freddie's POV. _  
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**_Disclaimer: Characters of iCarly are not mine. Story is mine, with some inspiration of course. _**

* * *

**-iSpy-**

_Chapter 1: Long Time No See_

* * *

Girls are so unpredictable. At least, that's what most people think when they see Samantha Joy Puckett, leaning against a shiny black Mercedes Sports Car, smoking a cigarette. This girl was especially frisky. Try to tame her, and your life is pretty much not worth living. In fact, my life was hell.

Let me back up a bit.

Hi, Freddie Benson. I'm an undercover spy. Yeah, that's right. I have all that cool spy gear, in the latest model. Shh, don't tell anyone.

My newest target, and hardest one yet... the blonde haired beauty, wearing tight leather pants, leather jacket and killer red heels. The thing is though, I wasn't precisely sure how it was all going to work. Since we'd dated a couple of times, on and off through high-school. Now, I was going to catch her and kill her.

That was the plan.

One thing you don't learn in school. Plans always change. Another thing you don't learn in school. How to hide from your ex-girlfriend.

"Long time no see, Benson."

A voice whispers behind me, and I feel something hard against my back. Then I hear a slight 'click'. Her hand winds around my neck and I feel familiar tingles up and down my spine.

I step backwards, whipping around, pinning her to the wall next to us. It's my turn to smirk.

"I thought you forgot about me," I say, snatching the gun from her hands and pocketing it.

Sam's face breaks into a smirk, one I'm quite familiar with.

"If you think you're killing me today," she spits. "You're wrong."

I look around slowly, and I see a few big men standing around the area, like vultures ready to attack at any given moment. They are all armed and they all look about six foot nine. Some people... criminals, you just don't even want to mess with. If I had back up today, it'd be a totally different story.

"Fine. You win today, Puckett."

"I always do."

She knees me in the groin, which I double over in pain from and fall straight to the ground. That never gets any less painful than what it looks. I feel her hand whip into my pocket.

The gun was gone and so was Sam.

* * *

"Dude, ice is not going to help that."

"Thanks Conor," I say, wincing. "I got it."

Conor O'Grady is one of the other spies that work for my father. He's really smart when it comes to paper work, but not much when were out in the field.

Oh, I forgot to mention that my father runs an international Spy convention. Maybe one day, I'll take his place when he's retired and all that. My mom has no idea about my father or me being top spies for the government. I think that it's safer for everyone though if she's none the wiser.

"What happened today anyways?"

"I went to go find Sam Puckett and-"

The guy made an annoying hissing sound with his mouth. It was really weird. But I looked at him, waiting for whatever he was going to say.

"Tough bitch, that one."

I nod, and suppress the urge to punch him for calling her a 'bitch'. She wasn't exactly a bitch. She wanted everyone to think that she was, so she could never risk getting hurt. It was because of jerks like Conor, she was the way she is today.

"Next time, I'm bringing back-up."

"Good call."

I sit down, lean my head back on the couch and close my eyes. Sam, you cheeky little devil... Sam, you sexy little minx... Sam...

* * *

_"Wake up sleepy head," says a soft voice. "You overslept again. The kids are up and ready for their soccer practice."_

_"Sure honey," replies the man and pecks the woman's lips. "I can't wait to see Tyler's first goal!"_

* * *

My eyes snap open suddenly, and I jolt upwards. Whatever that was, it was weird.

"Mr Benson, I made coffee for you. I hope it's not too hot," says a pretty, young girl with green eyes and red hair. "You take yours with milk and half a sugar, right?"

"Yes," I reply, kind of dumbfounded. "I don't even know your name."

"Teresa Collins. I'm new around here. Could you show me around?"

I wasn't exactly sure who this new woman was, but I had a feeling I'd be seeing a lot more of her around the office.

I showed her everything, and even took her to the weapon laboratory. You know, where they make the guns, knifes and really cool spy gear I was telling you about? Yeah, all of that. I swear if her eyes were any bigger, they would've fallen out. I could tell she was rather impressed.

"Have you seen the training room?" I ask Teresa, who shakes her head.

There's a specified room, which can be set up as a real crime scene or as we call them "fields" and you practice catching the bad guys. Neat, huh?

We step in, and we're instantly transported to a busy street in New York City.

I have to pretend to be the criminal, and Teresa has to catch me and "shoot me". After a while of chasing, hiding and all that fun spy move stuff... she eventually catches me. We're lying all tangled up together in a heap, breathing heavily. There's a bit of a moment.

Okay, a bit of a big moment. But it's silent and all we hear is our own ragged breaths. Her eyes are staring into mine and vice versa.

"I should show you where my office is," I say. "Just in case you need to find me."

"Sure," replies Teresa.

We stumble out the same door we came in, and I take the girl to where my own office is. Oh and there's the paper-work I forgot to fill out.

I sit down in my chair, and watch the young woman close the door behind her, then makes her way over to my desk, pushing everything off quickly and climbing over it, then onto my lap. She sits down, wrapping her arms and legs around me slowly and holds my face.

"So Teresa, do you have a boyfriend?"

Our clothes come off, and we're kissing like it's the end of the world. She hits the top of my head harshly.

"Wake up! Wake up, stupid!"

* * *

I sit bolt upright, and I see an angry Teresa staring... no... make that glaring at me. I look around quickly and wipe the drool off my mouth.

"Huh? Teresa! I was just... uhh..."

"Rough day in the field, huh?"

Her eyes flicker to my hand on her waist and I hastily remove it, swearing internally. How could I be so stupid? That's Teresa! A close friend, whom you don't like "in that way", as you always used to say. Gahhh! What the heck is wrong with me?

"You have no idea."

"Samantha Puckett, right? God, she's been the agency's trouble since ... forever!"

"Yeah."

My trouble, since forever.

I sigh and rub the back of my neck awkwardly, as Teresa gets up and goes over to make some coffee. I can't help but admire her butt as she walks. Goddamn, you're a pervert, Fredward Karl Benson!

But could you blame me?


	2. Her Twin Sister

**_A/N: Thank you for being interested in this story so far. A little steamy moment up ahead, but not too graphic. _**

**_Disclaimer: The characters of iCarly belong to Dan Schneider._**

* * *

**-iSpy-**

_Chapter 2: Her Twin Sister_

* * *

The first time I met Conor O'Grady was about five years ago. I was a new agent, just having found my father after a long six months of searching. In fact, it was while Sam and I were still dating. Sort of dating. I don't really know what to call it, since it was on and off more times than a bathroom faucet.

But I loved it so much that I stayed.

"Staring at that photo won't bring her here," Conor says, carelessly shrugging.

"I wasn't staring... I was... studying!"

He pats my back and grins at me, as if to say 'suuuure. "Studying". Gotchya.' I just roll my eyes and places the photo back into Sam's file and rub my head. A headache's coming on, I can feel it. The guy sits on my desk and does a creepy eye-brow wiggle at me, like he's hinting something dirty. No big surprises there. He's _always _hinting something dirty.

The nerve of that guy.

"So, a couple of us men are going to the Tapitz Bar tonight. We're planning to hook up with some waitresses and get free stuff. You're welcome to join us."

Join Conor and a bunch of his goofy friends versus an early night... hmm, tough call. Not. I shake my head and decline his 'thoughtful' offer.

"Suit yourself," he replies and saunters out of my office. Not before calling back: "All the more waitress for me to enjoy!"

Again, I roll my eyes and rub my head slowly. It's been a heck of a long week, and this chasing Samantha Puckett, was wearing me down to my bones. I'm serious.

Oh, by the way, I found some back-up. In fact, it's a little team of top agents to help me, the next trip into the field.

All I needed to find out was... where the blonde headed demon was hiding out, and ambush her. When she least expects it, of course. Although, perhaps she'd be expecting the unexpected, therefore we should attack when she's expecting it, which is the most obvious which she doesn't expect. Whoa.

Did that make sense to you?

* * *

_"Fifth night you were 'working late'," said the woman, hands on her hips. _

_"Honey, I'm sorry... There's so much paperwork and-" the man replies, trying to save himself. "I'm just really sorry."_

_"Tell that to your son, who's crying because his daddy didn't see him play his first game of soccer today."_

_Both husband and wife argued all the way into the early morning, and there wasn't any stopping this one. Usually, they'd find some sort of mutual agreement or something to save them. But not this time. He'd just gone one step too far, twice too many times. The first was his daughter's first ballet recital. _

_The woman left the room. The man sat on their bed and thought about what was going to happen next._

* * *

In the end, I decided to take night out and actually go hang with Conor and his goofy friends. I am not kidding when I say "goofy" in fact it could even be considered an understatement. The guys hardly know anything about... well anything.

Except when it comes to the female species and interaction.

There's Dave, who's the leader of their bunch. Cam who is more interested in what the girls are wearing rather than how hot they look. Then lastly there's Jack, who's kind of quiet but in the end, has a huge effect on the ladies.

"So there I was, sandwiched between the two hottest girls you could ever imagine," Dave boasted, puffing out his chest.

"Okay, so like, you have to tell us _everything__! _Don't leave out a single detail." Cam says, flapping his hands around, dramatically.

Jack just nods. I look over at Conor, who's grinning and waving some piece of cardboard with writing on it. He joins the table and the guys all applaud him like he's some kind of hero. I smile kind of politely.

"Two phone numbers AND an address. Top that, bitches!"

The four men laugh like buffoons and I decide to walk over to the bar, just to get away from the table.

Approaching the bar, I notice a girl with brunette hair and greyish blue eyes and she reminds me so much of Sam. At least, I'd recognize that face anywhere. It's imprinted in my brain. However, she smiles sweetly and asks me what I'd like to drink.

"I'm sorry, you just look like someone I know."

"I get that a lot," she replies, with a soft giggle. "I guess that's what I get for being a twin."

Twin?

That's when it clicked. And so did I.

* * *

A couple of hours had passed by, her shift had ended and we were making out on her front door, on the outside of her apartment. The girl fumbles for her keys and lets us in.

I pin her against the door, slamming it closed in the process, she smirks deviously.

"Hello Freddie," she says.

"It's been a while, Melanie," I reply.

Melanie bites her lip and stares up at me and I see that old familiar spark in her eyes that light a fire deep within me. I can't control it. The girl wraps a leg around mine and I lean into her, pressing up against the young woman. Finally, I tilt her chin up and press my lips on hers once again.

Before I know it, she's pulling me over to the couch, undressing as we go. I do the same.

"Ooh, I want you Freddie Benson. I've missed you so much."

We lay on the couch together, naked and sweating from all the excitement. As we kiss, I feel her curves, sliding my hands all over her body. She moans which only spurs me on even further. Pretty soon, we're inside and outside of each other, making love... passionately.

Sam always hated that term. 'Making love'. She said it sounded icky.

It was all pretty much a blur.

Until the next morning, when I wake up and look around. I see Melanie sleeping soundly and decide to take this opportunity to do a little... hunting around her apartment. First I get dressed.

Okay, okay. So it seems very... disgusting... to use her for drunken sex and then snoop around for evidence on her sister...

I'm in the middle of opening a drawer, when I hear a click in the door. Like a key, being turned. The only thing I can do is find a good place to hide. My legs spring into action and I dive over the kitchen counter and crouch down, praying that no one comes in here.

"Melanie," a deep voice growls.

Oh shit. It's a male voice. Does Melanie have a boyfriend? Again, oh shit.

"Hey baby," I hear her chirp. "How was Spain?"

"It was okay. I'm ready for a little alone time with my sexy girlfriend."

Melanie laughs, but it's a very nervous laugh.

I know what she's thinking. Me. Where am I? And she should get me safely out of the house before... well... before her boyfriend finds me and kicks my ass. His voice sounded menacing. I wasn't entirely sure I'd survive the 'face-to-face' meeting.

"You know what, sweetie. How about you go take a shower and I'll go make you a sandwich, then we can have a little alone time."

"Sounds good babe. I'll wait for you."

I hear doors shutting and then I see Melanie, appearing, or at least her legs. Her eyes are widened with fear but I get up, kiss her cheek in thanks and leave quickly and quietly.

Phew. That was _way _too close.


	3. Mind Games

**_A/N: Thanks again for all the support. Love you guys! Keep holding on, it's going to be a bumpy road ahead. Yes, I'm trying to make the chapters a little longer... it's tricky sometimes. But I like a challenge. _  
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**_Disclaimer: iCarly doesn't and never will belong to me._**

* * *

**-iSpy-**

_Chapter 3: Mind Games_

* * *

If I could run any faster, I'd win a gold medal in the Olympic marathons, but apparently it's not fast enough to catch a killer. Yes, she killed yet another person. That girl must have a list or something, which I really hope I'm not on.

Sam Puckett, you'll be the death of me!

I hear her laughter, as she slips away, down the street. It's like she's mocking me and my attempts to capture her. Knowing that demon, she is.

* * *

_Earlier that day..._

"Samantha Puckett, last seen on 34th Street, unarmed and completely unprotected," reads Conor, then he turns to face me. "Weren't you on 34th Street just yesterday?"

"Buying my usual breakfast burrito to go, I didn't see her anywhere," I reply, grabbing my coat quickly.

"Where are you going?"

"To find that tough bitch."

"Oh. Good luck then."

Luck is definitely what I needed to bring Sam Puckett down. Luck was definitely not on my side.

But at least Gibby and Teresa were going to be of some use. Even if the guy had a huge crush on Teresa and she didn't even take notice of him or his constant blabbering on and on about girls he's dated in the past and what "his type" included. Some of the things on the list impressed be, but others were just plain stupid.

Then again, this is Gibby Gibson we're talking about.

"Hey Freddie, ready to go?" Teresa called out. "Gibby's bringing the car around for us."

"Thanks, yeah. I'll just grab my file, and I'll be right out."

I go into my office, and there's a note from Conor, sticking on my computer screen. I hastily remove it and scrunch it up, shoving it into my pocket. It was probably just another invite to some lame bar gathering. I had other important things to focus on right now. That was finding Samantha Puckett.

"Any slower, I'd need to move you with a tug boat. Come on!"

Teresa was more than excited about coming with me to work in the field. I could tell her fingers were itching with anticipation.

The file is waiting for me, so I grab it, lock my office door and pocket the key. Holding the private documents close to my chest, I join Teresa who's already pushing the button for the elevator. We head down to the parking lot and see a waving Gibby.

"You guys! Check out the beauty we have!"

He was referring to the car. But he saw Teresa and began gushing about how beautiful she looked today, and all that other chiz guys say to make girls melt into their arms.

One thing I've learnt about Teresa... she's not a mushy type of girl. Gibby hasn't quite caught on to that fact yet.

"Let's go catch ourselves a Puckett," I say, taking the driver's seat and the keys from Gibby.

The two other agents sit in the back, and all the equipment remains in the front passenger's seat. It's part of Spy protocol.

"Ladies first," says Gibby, opening the door for Teresa.

She ignores his gesture and walks around the other side, and jumps in by herself. Gibby shrugs like he's used to it and hops in also. I take off, speeding out of the car park and down to where all the busy city bustle was happening.

A little ways down the street, Teresa points out the front window.

"There's the target. She's unarmed again, none of those goons either."

"We should shoot," says Gibby, pointing the gun to the window, about to fire.

"Hold your fire, dude!" I shout, quickly. "We have to go about this with stealth and caution. We shoot her here, and people will start talking."

"That's the point though."

Honestly, sometimes I wonder what planet Gibby's brain is living on.

If we attract a lot of attention, the press will be all over it, and we'd hardly be a secret organization anymore. Hence the title: "Secret Agent Convention". The fact that I have to explain this to my fellow work mate and friend astounds me a lot more than it should.

"So we wait here?"

"Yes Gibby."

"I hate waiting," says Teresa, slumping back in her seat.

"Me too! Another thing we have in common!"

I roll my eyes. This was going to be a long wait.

As I predicted previously, it was a while before we climbed out of the car and sneaked around to grab all the necessary gear and weapons. It was time to surprise attack the blonde headed criminal. Sam Puckett, you're going down!

"Well, well, well," sneers a familiar voice. "You actually came back for me."

"Look, we just want to arrest you," explains Gibby.

I slap my palm to my forehead and Teresa groans with disappointment.

"Gibby!" Teresa snaps.

"What?"

As they bicker among themselves, I corner the blonde girl in an alleyway.

Slowly, I lift the gun up, aim it directly at Sam, who's taking a little step backward. The look on her face is one of fear, a look I've never seen cross this woman's features before. Her eyes were wide and glossy and her chin trembled slightly.

I was actually going to shoot my ex-girlfriend.

Right?

* * *

Wrong.

I couldn't do it. I am weak, I am pathetic and there's no way in a million years, could I kill Samantha Puckett.

"You don't want to do this," she whispers. "As soon as I die... you die with me. I know you well enough, Benson."

She got inside my head and I shook it frantically to try to stop her from penetrating every thought and brain cell in my head. It was too late.

I lower the gun slowly and breath out, and I notice a devious little smirk, spread across her bright red lips. There's something hot about women in bright red lipstick... trust me when I say that lipstick, especially fire engine red, doesn't clean off fabric too well. You're best to go buy a whole new shirt.

Sam tips her head back and laughs. I stare at her, wondering if there's a joke to go along with it.

"What's so funny?" I finally ask.

"The fact of how simple I can trick you into anything."

The woman springs up, pushing me over in the process, and runs as fast as those long legs can carry her. I scramble up to my feet and fire some shots randomly. I hit a car window and a tree. I run a fair few miles before finally stopping and giving up.

No such luck. I call on Gibby and Teresa, who, believe it or not, are still arguing.

"Thanks guys! We lost her again!" I yell, angrily.

"I thought you had her cornered," replied Gibby, looking at me and shrugging.

"This is exactly why I'm never going out with you, Gibson!" Teresa snapped.

And on and on and on it went. They were going at each other even while we were on our way back to the office, while we unloaded the car of all the weapons and gear, and signed out to go home for the day.

* * *

_Later that same day..._

When I got home, I hung my jacket in the hallway closet and made my way into the kitchen to grab out yesterday's leftovers for dinner. I wasn't all that hungry, but since Mom had always told me that: "eating lots, gives strength lots" or whatever, I forced down a couple of mouthfuls of tuna casserole.

I sat on my couch and flicked through the channels on TV, but found nothing of interest to watch.

My phone buzzed, and I picked it up to see who was calling. It was identified as an 'Unknown Number' which I suspected could be any number of people. I answered.

"Hello?"

"This is Freddie Benson, right?"

"Yeah, speaking. Who is this?"

"A friend. Listen, if you want to see your precious Samantha Puckett again, I suggest you co-operate with the following steps."

"DON'T LISTEN TO HIM, HE'S LYING- ARRRRGGGHHH!"

"That's enough! We don't want to kill her!"

I wince at the sounds of torture but listen for any other hints or clues as to where she is being held hostage. The voice on the other end of the line snaps, then clears his throat and continues speaking calmly.

"Your life in exchange for the girl's. Meet me on the corner of 23rd Street and 9th Avenue. Do we have a deal?"

"NO! FREDDIE, DON'T DO IT!" Sam's voice yelled out, followed by a slapping noise, like someone knocked her out.

"Keep her quiet!"

"Sorry boss."

"Have we got a deal, Agent Benson?"

It was quick thinking on my behalf, but my blood was boiling at about one hundred and ten degrees. No one was going to torture or hurt Samantha Puckett and get away with it for free. There'd be consequences.

"Yeah. It's a deal."

"Excellent. See you in an hour."

The phone line goes dead, and I'm still sitting there, in complete and utter horror. I think I just signed away my life just to save hers. What kind of idiot does that?

Me, obviously.


End file.
